


A night. Or two.

by WeNeedARuse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Complete AU, M/M, PWP, Sex, Smut, absolute timeline fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeNeedARuse/pseuds/WeNeedARuse
Summary: A smutty little AU where Din meets up with an old friend.“Don’t. Stay here. With me.”Din closes his eyes beneath his helmet. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.“Why?”And Poe laughs, softly as if to himself.“You know why. To pick up where we left off last time.”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Poe Dameron, Mando/Poe Dameron
Comments: 18
Kudos: 130





	A night. Or two.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY.
> 
> I'm aware this is bad. I know the timelines will never link up. I know I don't know much about any of this BUT Mando and Poe? Fucking? The chance was too good to miss.
> 
> But please note, this is all supposed to be in fun and not to be taken seriously. I'm just amusing myself (and two other people) with this smut offering.
> 
> Thank you :)
> 
> Edit: comments and kudos as always are very much loved and appreciated

The spice runner is in trouble.

Again.

They first met two years ago, on the same planet for the same thing. History always repeats. And two years ago Din had been struck by the beauty of the man, sweaty and angry and on the run as he was. Struck and, unsure, afraid, to do anything about- although he’s almost sure it had been offered- Din had skipped planet, and run.

And now he’s back.

“Spice runner.” He murmurs, coming closer. The dimness of the room does nothing to obscure that face.

“Mando.” Poe Dameron smiles, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. “Still wearing that ridiculous helmet, I see.”

Din smiles to himself, suddenly very glad that he can’t be seen, and cocks his head to the side, taking it all in.

“Still letting yourself get caught, I see.”

The shackles aren’t new, although they’ve attached him to a vent this time and not something so easy to remove as a pipe.

But the collar around his throat?

That’s an interesting development.

There’s silence for a while. As Din eyes the contraption and Poe eyes him. 

“Maybe you should think about giving up this whole spice thing.” He observes, “You’re obviously not very good at it.” Poe drops his head forward, rolls his eyes.

“One- I’m amazing at it. And two- you going to help me out of this thing?” 

So angry, so demanding. It almost pleases him.

“No. I like to watch you squirm.” A point to him.

And then Poe Dameron wins.

Again.

“You had your chance Mandalorian. I’m not going to beg.” And Din, unsure still, always guessing with Poe, takes stock of the situation, steps back,

Shrugs

And quickly snaps the collar from his throat.

It’s worth a little drama to see the look on his face.

“How the fuck…”

No, he won’t give up his secrets.

The shackles come off next, to another look of suspicious amazement. A look that, he has to be honest with himself, sits pretty well on Poe.

“Come. We don’t have much time.” He’s already noticed the two scruffy looking scavengers at the bar, drinking steadily and discussing what they’ll do to Poe once they get a chance. If he has to get him out, it has to be now. He’s already scoped out the exits, chosen the right one.

He’s halfway down it when he realises Poe isn’t behind him. Din growls to himself, mutters a curse under his breath and strides back into the back room.

“Do you want to die, spice runner? Because I can arrange that.” 

“Names Poe.” Poe mutters from underneath a pile of boxes, “Which you already know.” 

“What are you doing?” He regrets it the moment he asks. He shouldn’t have come here. To this dive of a bar on this dive of a planet. He was only here to refuel…

Or,

He’s lying to himself.

They said their goodbyes at this bar after all.

Poe reappears, gripping three bottles of strong looking golden liquid. He winks at Din.

“Okay Mandalorian,” He laughs, coming up close, too close, not close enough. “Rescue me.”

***

Poe takes him back to his place. A tiny, one roomed lodging in the roughest area, of course. Kitted out in Poe Dameron’s own unique way.

He doesn’t like it.

Too messy.

“How can you find anything in here?” He perches himself on the edge of the couch, pushing off a pile of books, papers and what looks like an old helmet. He eyes Poe, who flops bonelessly onto the bed, limbs loose and effortlessly elegant. Din tightens his hands into balls, rests them on his thighs. 

To stop,

Stop what?

“Everything is where I need it to be.” Poe mumbles, twisting the top of the bottle off with his teeth and taking a long pull of the liquid. Din absently watches it slosh in the bottle and absolutely doesn’t watch the way Poe’s throat moves as he swallows.

Well,

Maybe a little.

“What happened back there?” He asks, when the silence is too much even for him, and the drink makes Poe roll his head back and smile sloppily.

“The deal went wrong.” He offers the bottle to Din, for the third time, and for the third time Din shakes his head. “They set me up, locked me in the back room, went and got drunk. And then,” Poe smiles,

That smile,

That smile.

“Then you found me.” Din looks away, to the corner of the little room, away from the bed and the smile and the man.

“I should have left you there.” 

“Maybe.” 

He doesn’t comprehend, perhaps he never will, the magnitude of what he’s involved in. This man, this boyish, foolish, immature man.

“What you’re doing is dangerous.” And Din? Din the preacher? Din the Mandalorian, the bounty hunter, the failed warrior of a failed race? What does he know?

Poe leans forward,

Licks his lips.

Don’t look.

“This planet is dangerous. This whole galaxy is dangerous.” His eyes bore into him and maybe, maybe maybe, Poe Dameron isn’t as foolish as he seems. “You, Mando, you’re dangerous.”

“I’m just a bounty hunter.” Poe looks at him then like he’s missed the point, like he’s wrong and Din knows, somewhere deep inside, that he has but he can’t help it. Who he is.

Poe leans back, takes another pull from the bottle.

“Just a bounty hunter.” He scoffs. “Mando…” He stops, Din turns to look at him.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here? On Kijimi?” Din has a sudden urge to remove the helmet, stifling in this room. Remove it, swipe his hand across his forehead, cover his face with less than metal.

“I needed to refuel.”

“Hundreds of planets and you chose this one?” Poe adjusts his position on the bed, curls one leg under him and leans forward. “This little insignificant one?”

“It was closest.”

Lies.

“Alright.” Poe has his number, always has. He hates him for it. “And here I was thinking you just wanted to pay me a visit.” Din swallows hard, and the words stick but he forces them out.

“I am glad,” He mumbles it, afraid. “To see you.”

And Poe smiles.

And it’s a different smile, in his whole arsenal of smiles, this is different and new and soft.

“Mando,” And his voice is softer too, deeper somehow, a voice that crawls low in Din’s belly and settles and purrs. “How long are you staying?”

“A night. Maybe two.” 

“And you’re staying on ship?” 

“Yes.”

A pause. And then.

“Don’t. Stay here. With me.”

Din closes his eyes beneath his helmet. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Why?”

And Poe laughs, softly as if to himself.

“You know why. To pick up where we left off last time.”

Last time.

When he’d helped him, and held him, and curled his fingers into that soft, soft hair and wrenched himself away, terrified and ashamed and needy all at once.

“I…”

Soft hair, soft lips, warm solid body in his arms.

“I can’t.” 

Afraid.

“What? Are Mandalorians celibate now?” Poe is still smiling, and it’s like he knows. Of course he knows. “Because someone should alert the brothels…”

“No.” He cuts him off. “Not celibate. We can...I mean...I have…” 

“You have…” 

He’s too attractive, Poe Dameron, too damned good looking.

The crux of it.

All squirming around in his head.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” He blurts it out, the fear of it. “Why would you even want to be...intimate.” 

And Poe changes,

Grows, 

Leans forward and looks directly at him.

“I like you, Mando. You’re strange, and you’re new, and sometimes you’re even funny.”

“Thank you.”

“And,” He continues, downing the contents of the first bottle before waving the empty at him. “If what’s under there is hideous, then I can always make you put it back on.”

The thought of it? It scares him more than anything.

“I can never remove…” The bottle is waved at him again, dismissively this time.

“I’m not asking for marriage here. I’m not looking for you to pledge yourself, settle down and raise little baby helmeted Mandalorians with me. This isn’t eternity I’m wanting,”

“No.” It’s almost a question. Almost.

“One night! Of passion and sex and fun! Fun, Mando! You know what that is, right?”

Of course he does. And he knows about passion. But it’s always a cold passion, a need and a release and that’s it. But Poe Dameron? He’s different. He makes it different.

Because he wants to kiss him.

Din shakes his head.

And Poe nods.

“It’s okay, my friend. If you don’t want that with me, I understand…”

“I want you.” 

He cuts him off, surprises himself with the quiet force of his words, and Poe stops speaking instantly. Like a hand over his mouth.

“But you already know that.” 

He throws it like an accusation because it helps him to breathe. Blame someone.

“Well,” Poe shrugs. “I figured it out.” and then he laughs, and lays back on the bed. “Mando.” He laughs again and then,

Silence.

For a long time.

Just the two of them in that little room, worlds apart.

“I can’t let you see me.” It’s an excuse perhaps, but it’s the real one. “I can’t...compromise myself for you Poe.” Poe turns to face him, arm spread wide on the bed.

Inviting.

“I know.” Fingers curl in on themselves and Din feels the loss in his gut.

Oh how he wants him.

“But I can, we can…” He doesn’t know how to say it. He will never know how to say what he wants. He’s woefully inexperienced in this area.

And then Poe,

He sits up and he wets his lips and he laughs again.

“Blindfold me.” 

A shot to his gut, a painful pleasure ache.

“What?”

“A piece of fabric, right?” Oh that teasing tone, that ridiculous amused condescension. “And you take it, put it around my eyes and…”

Ridiculous.

How hard he is.

From just the idea of it.

He wants him,

Wants this,

Enough.

For one night.

Or maybe two.

“Okay.” He hears himself say.

“Okay.” Poe echoes. 

***

If he didn’t know how to kiss, he certainly does now, he thinks, as Poe curls his arms around his uncovered head, and threads his fingers through Din’s hair.

Kisses him,

Leads him in it.

Licks his tongue into his mouth and moans against his skin. 

And Din loses himself to it, for a little while. Loses himself in the tangle of limbs and the heady taste of sweet alcohol on those lips.

For a little while.

Until instinct takes over.

His hand is on Poe’s throat before he realises what he’s doing, thumb pressing up under his jaw, pushing his head back into the pillow as Din leans up, up and over,

Kisses harder,

Faster,

Rocks between Poe’s spread legs, feels the low groan deep in his throat as Poe arches back for him.

Lets him tighten his grip.

“Turn over.”

He wants him now. He wants this now. Too long, he’s waited too long, for this, for Poe?

Maybe?

Too long.

“Kiss me first.” Poe’s lips are even more intoxicating when you cover his eyes. Din props himself up on both arms,

Looks down.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, spice runner.” He says it softly, feels Poe’s cock twitch against his leg and takes this as a sign of encouragement.

“Do whatever you want, Mandalorian.” Poe’s hands travel down Din’s naked back and it’s all he can do not to shiver and shake and take and take and take, 

“But kiss me first.”

It’s unguarded, a confession almost, these two men. Two lost, broken, hungry men alone in this dim room. A confession of a need Din is almost certain he has himself.

Although he could never admit it.

He isn’t Poe Dameron.

He doesn’t have his strength.

So he kisses him, soft and slow. Uses everything the man just taught him, feels Poe’s fingers touch his throat for just a second before stroking up, reaching their mouths, pushing in.

“Okay.” 

And then Poe grins,

And turns over.

***

He’s behind him now, fingers digging bruises into Poe’s skin. Hips canting, beads of sweat forming and dripping down onto his bare back.

Hard.

He promised hard.

Poe groans, a wounded call of a sound, pulled up from deep inside him as he curls his back, bows his head forward, displays the back of his neck.

Animal instincts prevail.

Din bites.

And Din doesn’t close his eyes. Not once. Not through out it all. He keeps them open and watches.

Watches,

The way Poe’s shoulders flex with each thrust.

The way his fingers twist in the bed sheets.

The way he takes him, body open, pulling him in.

Din doesn’t close his eyes.

Even as he tugs at Poe, pulls him up so that his back is flush against his chest.

Sticky skin to sticky skin.

And Din has never felt this before. Never felt the full body touch of another person. No quick clothed fuck, this. This is pure, and it’s raw, and it’s heavenly in its awful beautiful ridiculousness. 

The muscles of Poe’s stomach flex under his touch. He shivers, reaches back and grips a fistful of Din’s hair.

And,

And Din loses it.

Loses everything to that touch. To fingers scraping his scalp, to the scratch of the blindfold against his cheek as Poe drops his head back against his shoulder and gives himself up to the moment. Loses it to the feel of Poe’s cock in his hand, hot and heavy and slick.

So much, all at once. So much to feel and comprehend and have.

“I want you.” He says it again, and even if he doesn’t know why. It’s obvious he does, but…

“Mando,” Poe whispers it. All his sounds had been beautiful and loud and unashamed before this one. This one word. His name that isn’t his name. 

This one sounds broken with desire.

And then,

Poe arches back, taut string straight, hands flailing and gripping to whatever part of Din he can as he comes, a short sharp gasp and a cry.

Din comes then.

From that sound.

This man in his arms. 

He presses his forehead to the back of Poe’s head and takes deep, shuddering, world shaking breaths. Inhaling sweat and hair and a scent that’s so unique, so uniquely his…

“Fuck.” He hears himself say.

“Agreed.” Poe murmurs, pulls from Din with a gasp and falls forward, a spent and broken thing.

Din reaches out and puts a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. He doesn’t know whether it’s to steady Poe or comfort him, or if it’s for himself. But he keeps his hand there, spreads his fingers out against his shaking flesh and allows himself to feel.

“Are you okay?” He asks after the shudders stop, afraid suddenly of the silence and the aftermath of the act. “Poe?”

“Yeah, just…” And Poe rolls onto his back, body slick with the remnants of them both and Din feels his cock twitch, again, as if it hadn’t been enough, as if he could have more and more and more.

Silence still.

And then Poe smiles, grin wide beneath the blindfold.

“How long are you staying for?” 

And for the first time, Din laughs.

“A night. Or two.” 

“Good.” Breathless, blind, Poe reaches out and finds Din’s hand, squeezes his fingers in his. “I need to take this off though.” Din nods, realises how idiotic that is because he can’t see him, and moves from the bed. He cleans quickly, and probably not very efficiently, before dressing.

The armour feels less like armour in this moment.

More like a cage.

Still, he dresses. He holds his helmet in one hand and moves towards the bed, where Poe has pushed himself to sitting, naked and beautiful and shockingly lovely. 

Din looks to his helmet. Looks to the man. 

Puts the helmet on the bed and leans over him. 

“You are lovely.” He says, a scared little boy way of speaking but he means it. “Close your eyes.” 

If Poe doesn’t, does that mean the choice is made?

No. Because he knew he would listen.

So, before Din dresses fully. Before they commence the night, this night, the next night, he gives himself this one thing. And gently presses one hand over Poe’s eyes, covering them fully, and he kisses him once more. 

To taste. To feel. To remember.

One handed he puts his helmet back on, removes his hand and tells Poe he can look now.

Silence for a quick moment, as Poe looks him over.

“Okay,” He says at last, closing his eyes and leaning back. “Do you want to keep it on next time?”


End file.
